How Dare You
by Lord-of-Rhodor
Summary: You can now dare or ask the characters of Legacy of Rhodor, Travels of Stana Rhaudor, and other stories just about anything. (No OCs, sorry) Rated high T to low M for fairly salty language near the beginning. (UNDER RECONFIGURATION!)
1. Chapter 1

**Yo what's going on out there Fanfiction, this is Lord-of-Rhodor checking in here, and I'm doing something different this time. (If a tad cliché.)**

 **You can now dare or ask the characters of Legacy of Rhodor, Travels of Stana Rhaudor, and other stories just about anything. (No OCs, sorry)**

 **Some of the characters you can ask or dare are: Araz Rhaudor (obviously), Stana Rhaudor, Alrice Arctura, Firestorm, Heatwave (these two will be introduced in Legacy of Rhodor: Home is Where the Magic Hides), the Fazgang (FNAF including a new OC of mine, Lockjaw), General Shields, Arya Rhaudor, Darth Raze, and many others.**

 **Here are some examples.**

Araz Rhaudor yawned widely as he entered his kitchen, and picked up a thick parchment envelope with a red cursive D on it that was resting beside the coffee maker.

"A hair early in the mornin' to start this, isn't it?" He called to nobody in particular.

There was a faint flash of red light and a man appeared. He had thick, midlength black hair, sparkling brown eyes, an impish grin on his face, and a pair of rectangular rimless glasses resting on his nose. He was wearing a fine suit with a red tie patterned with black Strike-class symbols, and the handle of a combat knife peeked out of the inside of his blazer opposite the grip of an obviously high-caliber semi-automatic. **(Guess who, my loyal readers.)**

"Now, now Araz," he said, "It's already 8:30 in the morning. I have to get up earlier every day just to ensure your continued existence."

"Fair point," he conceded, and opened the envelope with a switchblade.

"Let's see," the King muttered skim reading the letter, " _I dare Araz to_ …" he stared at the next words, " _Prank Alrice_?"

He glanced up at Lord.

"Uhm, are you _trying_ to get me killed?"

Lord-of-Rhodor stared at him unsympathetically.

"Grrraaaahhh. Fine. But if I die, my blood is on your hands! Wait. _Shit_ I forgot. I can't die!"

 **Later…**

Alrice Arctura limped tiredly through the door of the house she shared with Araz. It had been a long day, and, worst of all, it was her Red Week, and she was in a very bad mood.

Suddenly, there was an earsplitting shriek, and a cascade of terrible-smelling liquid doused her.

"FFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK!" She screamed.

Her vision went red with anger. She pulled out her 10-inch combat knife and an M-74 40 mm launcher.

"ARAZ!"

 **Later…**

"Note to self. Never prank Alrice during Red Week," Araz whispered, cowering in the rafters, "I hate you so much, Lord-of-Rhodor."

 **So yeah. That's a sample of what you can do. Have fun and remember, featured dares will have to be completed by the victims, no matter how uncomfortable it may make them.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so for a lack of submitted dares, I've decided to put my characters through some dares of my own devising.**

 **PLEASE NOTE! SOME OF THE CHARACTERS THAT WILL BE DARED EITHER ARE PART OF A PREVIOUSLY UNFEATURED UNIVERSE OR HAVE YET TO BE INTRODUCED! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS!**

Stana Rhaudor stared at the left vent at Fazbear's Fright, her back to a pile of tables and ancient animatronic parts that were piled in a massive barricade before the door, her shotgun trained on the vent's opening.

"C'mon Springtrap you sadistic SOB," she snarled, "Make my day. Make my _furtakath_ …"

Before she could finish her sentence, a massive impact brought her barricade crashing down sent her staggering across the room.

"Make your day?" Hissed Springtrap, dropping the endoskeleton that he had just used as a battering ram, "I can oblige!"

He leapt forward, letting out his horrible howl.

Stana stumbled back, firing her D2 sawed-off as she went, and knew instinctively that she had missed. She threw up her arms and squeezed her eyes shut.

Springtrap's howl cut off abruptly.

"Now now," chided a voice, "None of that. Miss Rhaudor here has other matters to attend to."

Stana opened her eyes and saw that Springtrap was being put in a headlock by a young man wearing a red t-shirt with Toothless emblazoned on it, black jeans, black leather boots, a black hoodie with a red strike class symbol on the shoulder. He had a pair of half-rimmed rectangular glasses sitting low in his nose, an 8-inch buck knife strapped diagonally across his left thigh, a gold Colt Desert Eagle in a quick-draw holster on his right thigh and a silver one on his left thigh, several CS gas grenades on his belt, multiple spare clips on his thighs, and a battered red Bic Atlantis pencil tucked behind his right ear.

With one hand, he pulled out an old white 2-inch binder with a variety of stickers all over it, and flipped it open. He flipped the pencil off of his ear and scrawled something in his binder.

Immediately, Springtrap vanished.

"That's so much better," he sighed, dusting off his hoodie, and stowing his binder.

"How did you do that?" Stana demanded.

"Well, in order to answer that, I would have to break the fourth wall."

"Oh. Never mind."

Lord-of-Rhodor grinned.

"You have mail," he said, and produced a sheet of paper with a red A on it.

"Ah," said Stana, "An ask. Who is this from?"

"A friend, actually," said Lord-of-Rhodor guiltily, "I didn't get any requests, so I had to improvise."

"Ah," said Stana disappointedly, "Oh well."

She pulled out her 6-inch flip knife and slit open the envelope.

" _Ask for Stana Rhaudor from Jacob,_ " she read aloud, " _What are your favorite gun manufacturers?"_

She glanced over at Lord.

"While dad loves him some Winchesters, I actually have to go for Franchi, the company that produces my personal favorite, the SPAS 12 semi-automatic shotgun. Then there is Colt for handguns, namely the Colt Python .38. Then for things like rifles, I have to go for H&R Firearms due to the M16A1.

"Thanks Stana," said Lord-of-Rhodor, "And now, back to your regularly scheduled nightmare," he added with an evil grin.

"Don't you dare…" began Stana, but she was too late.

Lord-of-Rhodor whipped out his notebook and, with a quick scribble in his binder, made Springtrap reappear in the room.

"SCREW YOU LORD-OF-RHODOR," Stana screamed, diving aside as the animatronic lunged at her.

 **So, yeah. That's the new chapter.**

 **Just so you know, the pencil that Lord-of-Rhodor carries can, when paired with his binder can warp the very fabric of reality. See you later. I'm just too tired to make my usual outro.**


End file.
